The Brothers' War
by Xyris
Summary: FF6. The untold tale of Gestahl and Banon.
1. It Starts

_We all know their tale._

_Their tale is, after all, that of many heroes and heroines that have come and gone throughout the ages. Men and women whom Kismet chooses to smile upon in the wake of some new crisis or unconquerable enemy. People as diverse as the day is long, a body of unwavering souls which overcome adversity, incalculable odds, and even themselves. Yes. Their tale is nothing new to the annals of time._

_This, however, is not their tale._

_The story which follows concerns what came before. For every tale that is told, pieces will often be missing, just as the odd voice is left silent or the scattered question will linger like a splinter in the skin. Reasons for such omissions as these warrant their own little story, thus giving a better understanding of the larger picture in the process. The curious need only exercise discretion when finding the closure they have so tirelessly sought, for the answered riddle can mean many things._

_This tale of a tale precedes the adventures of the historically significant Returners and the flight of their _Falcon_. It precedes the Light of Judgment as well. It predates the World of Ruin and even the Empire which brought about its genesis, for some nine and a half centuries after the War of the Magi ended, all of these happenings found root in the most unlikeliest of places._

_It all began in a field . . ._

It was a very hot and lazy midsummer day. A white sun burned high and bright in the clear blue sky while the occasional ocean breeze whipped across the open meadows below. A lone oak tree, standing silent in the shadow of some nearby foothills, gave a gentle sway in the wind, rustling its leaves until the calm settled back down around it.

For the ones that either worked or traveled, it was the type of afternoon that deserved either half a day of hard labor or a nice downpour to take the edge off. Banon, however, didn't seem to think so. It was the first sunny day any of them had received since the storm had let up just the other day, and the young boy couldn't sit still no matter how hot the sun was.

He sprung up from out of the meadow, hoping to get the jump on his brother.

"Marco--"

"Polo."

Banon spun around in his place, grinning as he saw an indistinct form tunneling through the long ferns and bee-lining for the oak tree in the distance. He gave an excited holler of victory as he ran to catch up with him.

"I gotcha now! There's no getting away from me this time!"

He huffed and puffed his way through the tall grass, half-jumping and half-sprinting into the foliage so as to stay on top of his sibling. Wheezing to a stop after five minutes of pursuit, Banon found that he had lost the chase yet again when a gale wind blew over the trail his brother left behind in the meadow.

But Banon never erred. "Marco--"

"POLO!"

Banon jerked as his brother sprung up from right behind him. He gave his older, longer-haired sibling as defiant a stare as any playful child could manage.

"Gestahl!"

With a crafty-looking sneer wrapped around his face, he turned tail and continued on closing the gap between himself and the oak tree. Banon quickly fell in step behind him, shouting for Gestahl to stop or even just to slow down a bit. He did neither, and by the time Banon made it to the foot of the tree his brother was already scrambling his way up through a maze of oak branches. He scratched at his short, blond hair in frustration.

"No fair, brother. You know I'm afraid of heights."

Gestahl's grin had lost none of its integrity as he peered down at him from where he sat upon one of the topmost branches. He let both of his feet swing to and fro, causing some of the nearby limbs to rustle audibly alongside him.

"Then I guess my plan worked perfectly, didn't it?" He straightened out one of his brown pantlegs. "I suppose this means I win, huh?"

Banon crossed his arms irately, the defiance in his eyes intense enough to completely burn the tree out from under him.

"I swear that if I only just thought of bringing a chocobo out with us, I could just fly on up there to get you down."

Gestahl scoffed. "Chocobos can't fly, dummy."

"They can to." Banon scaled his way up some of the lower hanging branches, paying close attention as to how far away the ground was. "Dad even said they can, so there."

His brother reached up and pulled himself on top of the branch directly above him, aware that his brother couldn't possibly get to him but not taking any chances. "You don't really listen to everything dad says, do you?"

Banon stopped trying to pull himself up any further, his determination giving way to disbelief. "He's the king of Vector," he replied, as though that fact alone answered everything.

"That doesn't mean he's always right." He broke eye contact with his brother down below, deciding that there had to have been something more exciting to see from such a high altitude. "Kings can make mistakes too, you know."

"Not dad," Banon insisted, sounding discontent. "Never . . ."

"Yes, dad too." Gestahl reached up for yet another branch. "And I'd really like to know where he got the idea that chocobos could fl--aiiiiiii!"

The branch above him gave way, taking Gestahl with it on the trip down. Banon heard it, along with his brother's strangled cry, but could do nothing other than watch helplessly. Both of Gestahl's outflung arms corkscrewed endlessly as he descended, struggling for something to grab ahold of but falling too quickly to secure any kind of grip. Off on the opposite side of the oak he landed at last, spread-eagled on the ground and yelping in pain.

"Gestahl!"

The older brother grunted in irritation as Banon spun around the base of the tree, pushing through the tall grass to get to his prone sibling.

"Are you okay!" he cried, kneeling down beside him. "Did you break your back!"

"It's alright, I'm fine." He sneered away from the help Banon offered and brought himself up on one knee, his face contorting in anguish from the effort. "I just . . . got the wind knocked out of me, that's all."

Banon stayed beside him, studying Gestahl's movements in case he learned abruptly of something that was fractured or broken.

"Now you know why I'm so afraid of heights. Can you stand up?"

"Of course I can," he growled through clenched teeth, then staggered back to his feet just to prove that he could. "Ow! No, it's fine."

"Come on, brother. We need to get you home and looked at by a doctor."

Gestahl sighed defeatedly. "Dad's just going to love that. I know exactly what he's going to say too. 'You were playing around that oak tree again, weren't you'? He'd ground us for a month."

"Brother, you're smoking."

He squinted."I'm what?"

Banon motioned behind him, stuttering. "Y-y-your clothes, they're smoking."

He jerked and started slapping at his shoulder, as though trying to bat aside some unseen demon. Seething hot pinpricks of fire stabbed at his arms and legs too, and both the brothers realized rather suddenly that the entire north side of the tree was burning! The ground beneath their feet even smoldered black, its ashes swirling and dancing in the afternoon wind.

"What happened here?" Banon put out the last of the flames on his brother's back. "Where did all of this fire come from?"

"Hey Banon, look at that."

He pointed up towards the foothills, where a blackened trail zigzagged up across the rockface. At its end, Gestahl could barely make out the pale white form that was ambling its way along before disappearing inside of a shallow cave.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I don't know, but it might hurt us. We should probably go back home."

"Hold on." Banon seized Gestahl by one of his coat sleeves. "You were the one that found the thing. And besides, _it_ could be the one that's hurt. It might need our help."

"But it's almost lunchtime. Mom'll get angry if we miss lunch twice in a row."

"Lunch!" Banon let go of his brother's sleeve and started trudging up the hillside. "Alright, fine. You go home and eat. I'll go by myself."

"Banon . . ."

"No, it's fine. Just go."

"Banon, don't--"

But his brother was already halfway up the foothill. Gestahl sighed and went to catch up, wincing and arching his back in pain with every step he took. Nestled in the cool shade of the mountainside, the two of them met up again outside the mouth of the cave. Their hearts raced, neither one being entirely sure of what lay in store for them.

"I'll go in first," Banon said. "After I'm in, count to twenty Kohlingen's and come in after me."

"Hey, why do you always get to do things first?"

"Okay, fine. You can go in first."

"That's more like it," Gestahl replied, his head already too far into the cave opening to see his brother's triumphant grin. "Hey, wait a second . . ."

"Too late, now," Banon told him, pushing Gestahl the rest of the way in. He landed on the dark cavern floor with a thud. He waited for a moment, then another moment. A minute passed. "Hey Gestahl, are you alright down there?"

The dark silence lingered.

"Ges--"

"BOO!"

Banon jumped and hit his head on the roof of the cave, almost tumbling back down the foothill in the process.

"Ow! Gestahl, that really hurt!"

"So now, we're even."

"Well, is there anything down there or not? It only just got down here, so it couldn't have gotten too far."

"Haven't found anything yet. This place is pretty cool though. I bet it'd make a great fort for the summer. Come on down and take a look."

His own childish imagination getting in the way of his better judgment, Banon couldn't scurry down inside the cave entrance fast enough. The dank cavern air felt good against his sunburnt skin, and the rocky stratum below their feet seemed more than solid enough to support the both of them. Beyond the ridge it appeared as though everything curved down into a giant, black abyss, but when Gestahl stepped beyond to test his footing the splash of water welcomed him.

"It's an underground river," he said, awestruck. "Wow. I wonder what else is down--"

A set of sharp claws grabbed him from behind without warning, and the burning sensation he had felt down by the oak tree increased tenfold. Both brothers screamed, one out of sheer agony, the other out of uncomprehending terror. The creature seemed to have all the contours of a thinly shaped male except that it seemed composed entirely out of hellfire. With almost no time to think, Banon stripped off his tunic, dipped it into the groundwater, and lunged for the creature.

Gestahl's arms pinwheeled uselessly as he struggled to disentangle himself from the blazing hellion. Bearing down hard on him, and with its flaming touch searing past his clothes and into his flesh, the eldest of the two brothers strained to push the both of them off balance and into the nearby body of water. Just when it seemed as though his brother's strength was about to fail completely, Banon threw his waterlogged tunic down over the creature's body. Immediately, it went limp and fell to the ground in a naked heap.

"Brother?"

It took Gestahl longer to muster up a reply this time than after falling out of the tree, as most of his back was now covered with ugly, black/red scar tissue. Nonetheless, he grit his teeth.

"We should go home now, Banon."

"But we can't just leave it lying around here for someone else to find. The same thing could happen to a townsman passing by or worse."

Gestahl lingered down near the foot of the river, splashing several handfuls of water across his ravaged back. "What do you suggest we do then?"

Banon bit his lip in thought.

"Let's take it back to the castle..."

"Ba-non! Ges-tahl!" Maria called out in her usual, singsong voice. "Lunch is ready! Boys?"

Since having children, it had become something of a time-honored tradition to have lunch in the arboretum with her sons whenever the weather would permit it. There was nothing she enjoyed more than eating with her family out in the garden, as she felt that it gave life a certain feeling of completion. So, conversely, there was nothing more she couldn't stand than to have such plans unavoidably interrupted.

"Draco, sweetie . . ." She sat down outside at the table, fiddling with her long blond curls in a disappointed fashion. "What's keeping the kids so late?"

Her husband gave their delegate from Albrook a hasty handshake in his study, effectively sealing their trade agreement before joining his wife outside.

"Now then, what were you saying?"

She looked annoyed at having to repeat herself. "The kids, Draco. It's half past noon and they still haven't returned. I'm getting worried."

"I'm sure they're both fine. Thick as thieves, those two are. They've been cooped up inside this castle for three straight days because of that storm, so you can't really blame them for taking advantage of the good weather." He reached across the table for her hand. She took it. "And besides, this could be the first time we've had lunch by ourselves in quite a while."

For a moment, Maria smiled at the prospect. His dark, green eyes and long, chestnut locks made him as every bit captivating as the day he had wrested her from Ralse's grasp on the east side of town. She couldn't ignore the appeal which one more day with him had on her, but then there was no ignoring the motherly intuition that weighed heavily on her mind either.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "No, we can't. If they can't join us for lunch, then I at least have to know where they are. I feel so helpless whenever I don't know."

He grinned and sat back in his chair, not at all upset that she had turned down his invitation. "Well, if I were a young and impressionable child, I'd more than likely go some place which my parents had told me a million times to stay away from."

"You think they're down by the oak tree?"

He leaned across the table and kissed her lips. "I tell you what, I'll have one of my squires prepare a chocobo and go out there to pick them up. With any luck, we'll be back to grab a quick bite before the chancellor has some other concern that he wants to address."

She stood as he started to leave, putting her hands around his neck. "Just promise me that you won't be gone too long."

He kissed her again, more deeply this time. "My word is my bond, Maria."

Even as the king retreated through his wife's plantations toward the stable, Gestahl and Banon were already maneuvering their way through their mother's intricately shaped hedges. They plodded along more than they sprinted, straining from the insufferable weight of the man-thing in their grasp. At last, Gestahl could manage no more and fell back on his haunches. The pain in his shoulders and back had overwhelmed him.

"Brother?"

He dropped the creature's legs and helped Gestahl sit up against a hedge, careful not to touch his scars. But even his brother's gentle hands did little to end the agony which sought to explode from out his skin.

"Banon, it hurts!" He twitched and kept reaching behind him, as though it were all just a simple matter of tearing something away from his spine. "I can't . . . the pain . . . it's killing me!"

"Help!" Banon clutched at his screaming brother, suddenly forgetting about the creature that was lying unconscious on the grass beside them. "Somebody help us!"

Almost immediately, they heard a set of iron greaves trudging along the sods toward them while their mother gave a scream as though instantly understanding the plight of her two sons. Seconds later, their father appeared down at the edge of the path, both eyebrows arched in horror at the scene unfolding before him.

"Banon!" he cried out, throwing aside the leather saddle he had been carrying. "Look out behind you!"

Before he could even react to his father's warning, a set of razor-sharp teeth tore into his right arm. Banon screamed as his father kept racing towards them, gesturing and yelling out wildly until the thing's attention was finally diverted. It had only enough time to rear its ugly head and snarl before the king of Vector skidded along the grass and threw out one of his silver gauntlets. The creature reeled from the impact, cartwheeling in midair before crumpling to the ground.

"Banon, are you alright?"

He grunted, clutching at the bloody mess on his arm. "It's just a bite," he assured him, motioning to his brother. "Gestahl could use you more than I could."

"You okay, buddy?"

Gestahl's head lolled on his shoulders. "Back . . . hurts."

Maria soon caught up with them, carrying the hem of her chartreuse dress in her hands as she ran. Her own worst fears appeared justified.

"My Goddess," she cried, taking Gestahl into her arms.

"This thing--" Draco kicked at the unconscious half-man. "--attacked them. Where did it come from anyway?"

Gestahl squirmed in his mother's embrace. "Mmm . . . Banon . . ."

"What?"

Tears welled up and poured out of Banon's eyes. "Gestahl and I found it out in the foothills. We though it was lost or injured, so we . . . so I . . . decided to bring it back to the castle."

"But son, this thing is dangerous. You don't even know what it is or where it came from. What possible reason could you have for wanting to bring it here?"

Banon's voice became liquid and he had to struggle to get his words out. "Because I didn't want the same thing happening to someone else. I'm sorry dad, I didn't mean for Gestahl to get hurt."

Draco was taken aback by his son's reply, and Maria reached out to touch his arm. He smiled and threw his arms around him.

"It's okay, son," he replied, even as Banon apologized profusely into his father's shoulder. "It's okay, you did well. I'm so proud of you."

Gestahl turned to look at his father and Banon, the agony in his vertebrae suddenly gone. _Unbelievable_, he thought bitterly to himself, _I almost get paralyzed and burnt to a crisp, and dad is proud of _him He continued to stare a set of acidic daggers towards his brother even after his father started talking again.

"Maria, take the kids inside. I'll send for a doctor just as soon as I'm done taking care of . . . whatever this is."

"You're not going to kill it, are you dad?"

He eyed his youngest son as only a benevolent king and father could have.

"No Banon," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not going to kill it."

Draco waited until he was alone with the quivering pile of near-human muscle before grabbing it by both its arms.

"Not yet, anyway."


	2. Seek and Destroy

Daylight crept back behind the mountains to the west, its recline beneath a wisp of cumulus staining the dusky sky pink and turquoise. The many cobbled avenues of Vector, which had been teeming with street vendors and their patrons less than an hour earlier, had since grown dark and quiet. Like a recently dammed-up river, only the scattered trickle of activity continued on into the night. It was the idea of their city being overrun by late-night drunkards and streetwalkers that made Maria finally close the shutters for the evening.

"Novel?" she asked her husband, sitting alongside him near the mantelpiece.

"Novella," he corrected. "Some lad by the name of Yohalem wrote it. Figured I'd do a little reading for a change, to try and get my mind off of what happened today."

She leaned her head on his shoulder while brushing a hand across his chest. "Is it doing the trick?"

"Not really." She picked her head up momentarily as he clamped the book shut and slid it back into place on one of the shelves. "Bit of a grim tale, to be honest. Does little to soothe the soul."

"Well, if it helps to ease your mind any, the little ones are doing much better now than they had been this morning. Banon's injury wasn't all that serious to begin with, and it doesn't look like Gestahl broke anything in that fall he took."

Draco moved to place an arm around her, which she nestled into soundlessly.

"Still, I'll feel a lot better after that doctor from town shows up and gives them each a clean bill of health. I look forward to putting this day behind us."

They both sat silently for several moments, basking in the glow of their candlelight as well as each other. After some time, Draco felt her sink deeper into his arms and he began to think she was starting to doze off. He, then, saw that her eyes were wide open, apparently staring at the long, dark shadows which their candelabras wrought upon the stone walls.

"Some gil for your thoughts?" he asked.

She gave a shake with her head that sent her golden hair dancing. "You'll think that I'm foolish."

"Never."

So, she turned and looked at him. "I think this city has begun to make me a bit paranoid. It's not the innocent little hamlet it was when we first became king and queen. These people are changing, everything's changing."

"That _is_ the way the world works, Maria."

"But does it really have to? You . . ." She broke eye contact with him, struggling against mincing words with her husband of all people. "I'm not blind to what it is you're trying to do for them. You lay down a network of trade routes, you keep peace treaties with the hinterlands. You like keeping everybody connected, but control can unite in ways diplomacy can't."

Her last statement in particular seemed to strike a nerve with him. "Are you implying that Vector is a kingdom of undisciplined ruffians?"

"What I'm saying is that fear is as every bit the tool of a kingdom's success as peace. If a nation isn't feared by its enemies, what will stop our enemies from plowing right over us?"

"I think I hear the doctor knocking," he said, more for the sake of ending their conversation than pursuing it any further.

It was unbeknownst to either of them that the entire time his two parents had been talking, Gestahl was resting in a tub of shallow water in the room next door - hanging intently on their every word . . .

"Somebody call for a doctor?"

The two silver-clad guards posted at the castle entrance regarded the spectacled little man before them with suspicion. While their king had given them no real detail as to the one that was expected to arrive, the man which entreated entrance before them now looked more the part of a doctor's apprentice than an actual doctor.

"Are you sure you're the one His Majesty sent for?" uttered the leftmost guard in a monotone voice. "We were informed that the one stopping by this evening was closer to middle-aged."

"Yes," said the man before them, pushing the horn-rimmed specs up along the bridge of his nose. "Well, the town physician has requested that I see his patients this evening. I completed my apprenticeship beneath his tutelage just last week."

The second guard stepped forward, more for the purpose of putting his own two cents in than to be thorough with their visitor. "Gonna have to see your stamp collection first, son."

"Ah, yes. Well, I have a better idea." Very discreetly, the man reached into his robe pockets. "How about you take two of these--"

Two tiny vials of glimmering red dust were suddenly airborne, shattering upside each guard's visor. Before either of them could draw a sword, they both went down in discordant heaps - snoring soundly.

"--and call me in the morning?"

He hastily flung aside the phony robe and glasses, reminding himself not to get overconfident while there was still a short-tempered esper running amok. With a quick brushdown of his white-and-scarlet cape, he took in a tired breath and allowed himself in . . .

Banon tossed in his sleep, unable to keep visions of their fiery attacker from his mind for more than a few seconds at a time. In the dark, his bed sheets rustled and his voice called out against something that wasn't there - at least, not there in the room with him. From climbing trees to scaling foothills, he thought for sure that all the day's activity would have tired him out too much to take notice of a passing nightmare. But that simply wasn't the case. He finally bolted upright in his bed, sweat clinging to his brow like a shiny cloth.

"Mom, dad . . . ow!" He grimaced as the bandage around his arm twisted against his skin. "I had a bad dream and I can't get back to sleep."

His bare feet made soft patting sounds against the cold flagstone as he made his way to the door. He started to reach out for the knob when he heard a loud clatter from somewhere down on the first level. It sounded akin to pots and pans crashing onto the floor and for a moment, Banon got the idea that his mother was making him something in the kitchen. Just as he finally found the doorknob, however, a peek out through the frame told him a much different story.

The large double doors in their foyer hung open, both guards posted at the bridge were now unconscious, and a strange man Banon had never laid eyes on before was saundering about as though he owned the place.

Could he be their doctor? Banon wondered silently. And if he was, what reason could he possibly have for knocking out their night watchmen?

Deciding to go with his gut instinct, he huddled down near the door and ever so carefully pried it open. Down below, the stranger lingered near the bannister of their grand staircase. His eyes cased over each of the castle's rooms that were within eyeshot and detected movement. Upstairs, Banon scrambled around a corner and down a hallway before the red-caped man could find him. Heavy boots galloped up the stairway, and Banon disappeared behind the first door his hands found the knob to. Gestahl's door.

"Gestahl? Gestahl, wake up!" He shook at the bed sheets vehemently, waiting for a reaction but not immediately receiving one. "Gestahl!"

His brother finally gave a grunt as Banon's hands found a sore spot along his back. Gestahl turned over, saw that it was his brother, then turned over again. "What do 'you' want?" he murmured, half asleep.

Banon was too panic-stricken to notice the suddenly surly tone to Gestahl's voice. "It's a robber or something. He's going to find us, I think he's already found me! We have to get to mom and dad and get out of here!"

"Relax, would ya? The castle guards will take care of him."

"No!" Banon swung around to the other side of his brother's bed. "He's already knocked them out. He's coming up the stairs right now and he's gonna get us too. Come on, come on!"

"Fine," he growled, very carefully tossing the covers off of him before going to the door. "We'll get mom and dad. That way, they can ground you for spreading around these ridiculous stories and I can finally get some sle--"

The caped stranger stood out in the hallway, apparently waiting for the two boys to show themselves. Banon and Gestahl opened their mouths to scream but no sound came out. The man before them looked amused by their expressions, keeping a finger over his lips as though silencing them of his own free will.

"It's alright," he said to them, with a voice that was as every bit subtle as his Mute spell. "I'm not going to hurt you. All I want is the esper."

"A . . . an . . . an esper . . ." Banon stammered, intrigued at being able to speak again. "What . . . what's an esper?"

He smiled and stooped down. "It's a monster that can make itself a man. They live in a very far-off place."

Banon began to feel more relaxed. "Far off, like . . . Mobliz?"

The caped man chuckled. "Far off, like another world."

Banon's eyes shone with bewilderment.

"Who . . . who are you, mister?" Gestahl demanded, trying to sound brave but totally blowing it.

"Ah yes, my apologies. My name is Strago, and I've been chasing after this creature for five days now. I was able to track it as far as Albrook, but then got sidetracked when a storm slammed the continent."

"The storm!" Banon exclaimed. "Right. We found it in the foothills the day after it ended."

"Where is it now, do you know?"

Gestahl answered before Banon had a chance to. "Dad said he was going to take care of it, but that could mean anything."

"Alright then, I'll take it from here." He took out a small bronze rod from beneath his cape. Its glimmering crystal head earned another gasp of wonder from the younger sibling. "You two go and find your folks, then get to safety."

He began to go back the way he had come when Gestahl snatched up a handful of his cape. "Get to safety? But this is our home! What do you plan to do with our home?"

"Your home is about to become a battleground, son. Leave with your family while you still have the chance."

"But you can't--"

Strago heard no more of it and leapt down over the second-floor railing in pursuit of his prey.

"Banon, what are we going to do? We can't just let that guy do what he wants in our castle."

"Let's at least get mom and dad and tell them what we know."

Gestahl didn't seem satisfied with Banon's reply but realized there was nothing else he could do. Still in their bed clothes, the two of them ran down towards the end of the hallway where the master bedroom was. When they got there, they found their mother sitting next to the mantelpiece. Her face seemed preoccupied as her old-style music box tried in vain to comfort her with the tunes of "Troian Beauty".

"Mom," Banon called out in the doorway. "Put your robe on! We're leaving!"

"We're not going anywhere." Gestahl shoved his way past his brother, concerned for his mother's aloofness. "Mom, what's the matter? Where's dad?"

Maria tilted her head towards her eldest son, giving him a sad-looking smile. "Your father . . . went downstairs. He said he heard the doctor coming."

"But that's just it, he's not a doctor. He's just some whacko who's out to hunt the creature that attacked us."

"Strago's no whacko!" Banon protested. "He's only trying to protect us from the esper!"

"Oh really, the same way your bringing it here was supposed to protect others?" Gestahl gave him an absolutely unreadable look then, unreadable because he had never shown this much hatred towards his brother before. "It obviously didn't do much to protect those two guards that got knocked out."

"He didn't kill--"

"That's enough!" Maria shouted, finding her feet. "Save your bickering for another time, you two. Right now, we have to find your father."

"Sorry, mom," they both said.

She sighed and disappeared into her closet, apparently heedless of the music that continued to play its Troian ballad. As his mother threw on her robe, Banon twiddled his fingers in apprehension. He couldn't help but ask the question which kept gnawing on his mind.

"Mom, what did dad do with the esper?"

Maria tied the loose sash of her robe tight around her waist. "He didn't kill it, if that's what you're asking. He locked it up down in the cellar."

Banon nodded, then exchanged a nervous glance with Gestahl. It had suddenly occurred to the both of them that they had failed to inform either of their parents of the esper's ability to conjure up flames at will.

"What else do we have in the cellar?" Gestahl asked.

"Nothing much. Some family heirlooms, an old carriage, a wine cellar . . ."

The two brother's looked at each other.

"Why?"

An explosion suddenly rocked Vector castle down to its very foundations. Several smaller ones followed as bottles from the old vineyard detonated several stories below. All three of them had their feet taken out from under them, but Maria was back up in a heartbeat - running out the door and screaming her husband's name.

"Mom, wait!"

Banon helped Gestahl find his bearings again, though he was too concerned with his mother to mutter so much as a simple thank-you in response. Without another word, the two brothers chased her back out into the corrider, trying their best to ignore the flames lashing up at the latticed windows from outside . . .

Several minutes before the first explosion went off, Strago's rod was already prompting him halfway down the spiral stairway into the Vector castle sublevel. His instrument was infallible, being perfectly synchronized with the life energies of any esper within a five-mile radius. Only the quick and the dead stood any chance of falling below the Magi warrior's range, and he used this knowledge to spearhead his search. As he tread deeper and deeper into the musky cellar, the telltale creak from the old wooden steps prompted someone to call out in the darkness.

To Strago's dismay, the voice was human.

"Who goes there?" the voice asked. "Is that you, Maria?"

"Your Majesty, I presume?" Circling around a large motorized carriage to where the voice emanated from, he decided to go ahead and continue where he left off on his role as doctor. "I'm the physician you sent for. For your two children?"

"Ah yes . . ."

On the opposite side of the cellar, Strago could barely make out what appeared to be a large steel cage with its door hanging open. The esper couldn't have been more than a few meters away now, so if the king really was nearby he was taking an awfully big chance by lingering there.

"Neither of your boys have suffered any life-threatening injuries, however I'd like for you and your family to come with me into town. The young ones may still need some antibiotics."

Something around the corner flared into life then, and the voice that had once belonged to Draco suddenly took on a savage overtone.

"The boys, yes. I shall be moving on to them . . . in a moment . . ."

Strago started to question such an unusual statement, when he rounded the last bend and gasped. It was the same emblazoned esper with cherub wings he had been pursuing for the past week, yet it spoke with King Draco's voice - while King Draco's intestines hung down from its mouth.

" . . . right after I'm through with _you_!"

He sighed and started twirling his rod about in a wide arch, preparing himself for the onslaught he knew was inevitable. As it cascaded through empty space, the rod began to carve a triangular glyph into the air before him. The esper reacted, roaring as though he had fought this battle before. Fire and lightning erupted from its physique, engulfing the cellar with blinding radiance. Something exploded a split second after the glyph started to spin, sheltering the mage from the blast but giving his hunt ample opportunity to escape.

"Those boys . . . their mother . . ." The mage gave a grunt as he heaved a smoldering rafter up off of him. "This hunt cannot continue now. I must help them to escape, while it can still do them any good."

Coughing and burying his nose in his cape, Strago darted for the spiral stairwell while uttering a hasty spell for breathable air in the process. The amber haze of heat and light caused him to stumble more than once on his way up but finally the creaky wooden causeway came to be replaced with a flagstone floor and walls. The pitter-patter of children's footsteps chased after him and before he could call out, Banon, Gestahl, and Maria rounded a corner to his position. The three of them had some very concerned looks on their faces.

"Did you find the esper?" Banon asked him.

"Where's dad?" Gestahl followed up by saying.

"Who are you?" was all Maria said.

Strago pushed his way passed them, heading for the door. "There's no time to explain right now. We have to get out of here before this castle eats itself out from the ground up."

He felt a pair of hands suddenly seize the middle of his cape and learned that it was Draco's eldest son.

"Where's our father? What did you do with him?" Gestahl shook the mage with each question asked of him. "If you don't tell me right now I'll--"

"The esper got to him before I could." Strago took hold of the boy's suddenly still hands. "There was nothing I could do for him. I'm sorry."

The two brothers simply stared, unable to comprehend the loss. Their mother stood a little ways behind them, a hand held up to her quivering lips.

"Oh my hero, no . . ."

The flagstone foyer at the foot of the entrance unexpectedly crumbled in on itself and below, through the dust and rubble, a set of piercing yellow eyes glared up at them. His arms spread-eagled, Strago backed the family away from the opening in the floor. His eyes strained to stare the creature down.

"Is there another way out of here?" The shellshocked brothers and their mother couldn't bring themselves to answer at first. "Stay with me back there! Is there another door out of this place? Come on, think!"

Banon, breaking from his reverie from the force of the mage's question, finally answered. "The back door," he said, unaware that he was sobbing, "Dad's study has a way out to the gazebo."

"Then go." The crystal-tipped rod was back into Strago's hands in a heartbeat. "I'll hold it back for as long as I can."

Gestahl started to protest. "But this is our--"

"Go!"

His voice seemed magically amplified and the family began to obey when a tide of fire erupted from the hole in the floor, turning flagstone into brimstone. The young mage tried to throw up a Shield spell as quick as he could, but he simply couldn't get the cantrip out fast enough. The four of them were thrown back from the force of the killing tide, with the remnants of Strago's protective aura able to slow down some of the stone fragments but not all of them. As the mage struggled to regain his vertical base, his eyes widened on an esper that was now floating above the rift - and drifting towards them!

"You just don't learn, do you?"

But Banon and Gestahl were no longer paying the two foes any mind. The hellish blast of stone and shrapnel had their mother lying prone on the floor - a large wedge of cornerstone embedded into her chest.

"Mom?"

"Don't move, okay? You're going to be fine."

But Maria was barely able to hear them, her conscious thought holding on only by a thread. The lithe and beautiful woman sputtered blood as she reached out a hand to one of her two sons. The one she found was Gestahl.

"Mom, don't go. There'll be no one left to look after us. Mom, please . . ."

Her delicate hand caressed his face as only a loving mother's could. "Take care . . ." she wheezed, ". . . of Vector . . . of yourselves. Be good . . ."

She exhaled one last ragged breath, and the two brothers waited for her to draw in another one. But it never came. Her head lolled, her eyes fluttered, and then the heavy sleep of eternity descended upon her.

All of reality seemed to slow down around them. Neither Gestahl nor Banon heard the fire break its way up from out of the cellar, or even Strago loosing a bolt of elemental magic that brought the ceiling down on top of the war-crazed esper. The next thing they felt was a hand grabbing hold of their shirt collars and shoving them out along the back way. Even that didn't seem quick enough to spare them the horror of it all. The moment stayed with them long after the two brothers fled to the safety of the starry night.

Meanwhile, the esper - buried beneath the burning rubble of Vector castle - smiled.

_The day after . . ._

The funeral was a simple affair, reserved only for family members, the royal guard, and a handful of foreign dignitaries. Both brothers stood silent throughout the service, paying little or no attention to the condolence speeches given by a Doman sentry or even the chancellor of Figaro. It all passed them by in an instant, until both brothers were alone with their parents' monument on the hillside. The dismal gray overcast only seemed to amplify the sorrow which Banon felt.

Gestahl, on the other hand, was feeling something else entirely.

"I can't believe they're gone." Banon struggled to keep the tears from his eyes, but the obsidian stone in front of them wouldn't let him. "What's going to happen to us without them? Are things ever going to get better for us?"

Gestahl, however, couldn't keep his eyes away from the monument that had been Vector castle - a monument that was now as black as their mother and father's grave marker. "I can't really speak for us," he told him, "I can only speak for myself, and the township of Vector."

Banon sniffled and looked at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Hasn't the chancellor told you?" When it seemed that his only answer would be his brother's dumbfounded face, Gestahl continued. "With both of our parents dead, the throne passes over to the eldest son - me."

"Oh," Banon said, only partially understanding. "But what about me? What do I get?"

Sparks of contempt flashed in Gestahl's eyes, making Banon feel uneasy. It was the same look he had been given the day the two of them brought the esper home.

"The chancellor and I spoke about that, and we both think it would be best if you didn't stay here anymore."

"What? But you can't! We're--"

"We're brothers?" Gestahl finished for him. "No. That excuse won't work anymore, not since you allowed for one of those esper creatures into our home and tear it apart from the inside out."

"But I . . . I did what dad taught us was right. I put the needs of the many before the needs of the few. Mom and dad understood that. Why can't you?"

"Because it's an attitude that will mark the end of Vector!" Gestahl's voice took on a harsh and explosive life. "Fifty years from now, no one will remember this place, these people, not even mom and dad! I'm pulling out the stops here and now, and the stops start with you!"

Banon staggered a little ways down the grassy slope, feeling smaller and more vulnerable than he actually was. Could the chancellor really be condoning all of this? Where was he supposed to go?

"I can't believe you're doing this to me . . . to us." He turned back to their mother and father's obelisk, wanting to take back so many things he had done that fated day in the meadow but unable to do so. "Just . . . why?"

Gestahl remained indifferent as he spoke. "To watch over the legacy our parents left behind. Mom and dad understood that. Why can't you?"

"Brother . . ."

But Gestahl was through listening to him. With a rose in one hand and a makeshift crutch in the other, the Vector prince lingered a moment longer to pay his last respects and then hobbled his way back into town. Banon stayed, not knowing what to do, where to go, or even what to feel. A stiff breeze finally rustled the grass at his feet, and he realized with no small degree of anguish that his own rose lay ruined within his clenched fist. The crushed pedals tumbled from his tiny fingers, fingers that had gone numb since the esper had attacked him. And it was then that it hit him.

The wound on his arm had vanished . . .


	3. The Shadows of Industry

Time passed.

Minutes on the hillside in Vector turned to hours, and then into days. The world passed into transition, changing vibrant greenery into an inferno of autumnal colors before the cruel hand of Winter wrung it all from their branches. And so it was that after an entire decade had went by, Father Time held his ragged breath for the two brothers. It was up to them now whether or not they chose to let old rivalries be born anew . . .

"That should just about do it."

Muscles twitching and rippling beneath his faded brown tunic, Banon blew loose wisps of hair from his eyes as he fought with the number-nine pressure valve in the Figaro control room. There was no give to it, moving only a few millimeters in the desired direction. It didn't matter. Banon just needed for it to be enough if the experiment was to be a success. He kicked at a nearby clamp, locking the valve in place before scrambling up a scaffolding to check the pressure gauge. He tapped on the glass casing but the needle remained fixed in its spot.

"More torque," he heard himself say, and then leaned out over the edge of the platform. "Renzo, it needs more torque!"

"It's already at its limit," a gravelly voice called back from down in the corridor.

"Then get your bearded butt up here and help me with this valve!" Banon worked his way back down to the lower landing while Renzo worked his way up. "If there's not enough steam to turn those drills this time, then we've pretty much wasted an entire weekend rebuilding them."

"You don't have to go tellin' me stuff I already - _ugh_, know!" His last word fractured beneath the strain he put into the valve, bracing it from moving in one direction while Banon kept jerking it the opposite way. "I've pretty much been, _uh_, working with the king on this for as long as, _oof_, you've been."

Banon never answered, only grinned as he locked the clamp back into place. Banon had been here since Gestahl (he had learned a very long time ago to stop calling him 'brother') had exiled him a decade earlier. The chancellor of Figaro was the first to hear of the young boy's dilemma, and thus was the first to extend to him the hand of good fellowship as a friend of his late father. Renzo found his way to the kingdom two years after Banon did, not because he particularly enjoyed the company of royalty but because he needed the work. The two of them had been friends ever since.

"Okay. Let's see if we got it this time." Again, Banon scaled the scaffolding, as quickly and gracefully as the last hundred times he had done so, and checked the gauge. This time, he wouldn't be disappointed. "Success! We got it!"

"We do? Hot dog!" Renzo clapped his two hands together, genuinely proud of himself. "I told ya. Didn't I tell ya? All it needed was a bit of elbow grease."

Banon beamed, slapping him on the back. "You did indeed, old friend. So, what do we do now?"

"What the king had been asking us to do all along." He ascended to the upper level of the platform and pulled the clear casing away from a bright red buttom. "Do you want to do the honors or should I?"

"Well, call me a stick-in-the-mud, but don't you think the king would find something amiss when he returns from his hunting trip and discovers the castle missing?"

"Probably, but at least then he'd know we got his Submerge Mode up and running."

"One step at a time, Renzo." Banon stooped down to gather up his tools. "Why don't you go and inform the chancellor of our progress first? If anyone needs to find me, just tell them I'll be in the library - researching something."

Renzo conceded, still unaccustomed to the ways a kingdom worked but glad to have a little assistance. Banon retired to the library then, not wishing to linger within Figaro's many carpeted halls and chambers any longer than he needed to. Their elegance and grace was a painful reminder as to the home he had been banished from - before it had went up in flames.

Everything was as he had left it, and with so many of the kingdom's staff preoccupied with other affairs he was often free to conduct his studies undisturbed. He gave the card catalogue a quick perusing through before finding the book he was looking for, then took his usual spot at the table nearest the back. The book was called "Espers and Outcasts", written by the very same man who had hunted an esper in his home some ten years earlier.

"_. . . since the War of the Magi, primary source material has become a testament to the chaotic psychology of the esper race. Though not evil by nature, first-hand accounts from Magi Warriors prove conclusively that the atrocities of war have made berserkers out of many a calm and collected esper . . ._"

"Shhhh," said a young woman across the way.

"Sorry," he whispered, unaware he had been reading aloud. He gave a quick scan of the open book to find where he had left off.

"_. . . calm and collected esper. Some Thamasian scholars even hold to the belief that espers were once like us, and that one violent confrontation made them into the creatures they are today. In this light, it has always been assumed that espers in their human form are only capable of curative magic . . ._"

"Excuse me, could you please--"

Banon lowered the book this time, and he and the young woman made eye contact. For a moment, they were both at a loss for words. Her beauty struck him dumb, from her lightly tanned skin to her dark sweeping hair, every square millimeter of her fascinated him. Banon fumbled over his words, unsure of whether or not she was hesitating for the same reason he was.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No, I'm sorry."

"No, I am." She went over to his table. "I had no idea you were the one helping His Majesty with his experiment."

"How did you know that?" he asked, not thinking before speaking.

She touched her forehead. "Well, you have a little bit of . . ."

"Oh," he said, wiping the grease from his brow. "Yes. I'm a mess, aren't I?"

"No." She gave him what Banon thought was the sweetest smile he had ever seen. His heart fluttered in his chest. "I don't suppose you could tell me anything about the experiment, could you? It's been all the buzz since His Majesty started working on it."

"Sorry, it's classified." With a rag in hand, he cleaned away whatever grease was left clinging to his hands and face. "The king wishes for the project to be tested first before anyone else is informed about it."

"Oh. Well, can I ask what your name is? Or is that classified too?"

He laughed. "It's Banon."

They shook each other's hand.

"I'm Gayle."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." She pulled up a chair alongside him. "So, what is it that you're reading anyway? It's something about espers, isn't it?"

"Yeah, there's something I've been trying to understand."

"About magic?"

"In a manner of speaking." He flipped through a few of the pages idly for good measure. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Sure."

He reached down into his toolbox and pulled out one of his utility knives. Before Gayle had a chance to react to the gesture, he drew a slit down slantways across his forearm. Blood ran unchecked from the wound along either side of the tabletop.

"Banon, my Goddess! What are you--"

"Keep watching."

The wound began to sparkle blue, clotting over and then turning to scar tissue. Seconds after the sliver of metal passed through his flesh, the cut disappeared.

"Amazing!"

"And this is where the secret comes in." He flipped back to the page he had been reading before Gayle came along. "My brother and I were both attacked by an esper once, and from what I gather from all these texts I've been studying, it's done something to us."

"What--you mean it's given you the ability to heal yourself?"

"Well, apparently. But I can heal other people as well. Here, give me your arm."

She pulled back from him. "Uh, no. That's fine, I'll take your word for it."

"Right, sorry. Well anyway, I think it happened to me because the esper was in its human form when it attacked us. Look at this . . ." He read back the proper passage in verbatim. "'It has always been assumed that espers in their human form are only capable of curative magic'. That would explain it, wouldn't it?"

"If you say so." Her eyes passed over the worn book that lay open before them. "Really makes you wonder what an esper would do to someone if it attacked while it was still in its pure form, doesn't it?"

Almost the second Gayle started to ask the question, Banon's thoughts returned to Gestahl. He had been attacked in a cave, while the creature bled hellfire. Could that have been its true form? What ghastly effect did it now have on the current ruler of Vector? Banon felt his throat lock up.

"I don't know," he finally answered. "I must admit though, I'm suddenly curious."

Gayle was about to say something in response when Renzo burst into the room, waving around a yellow slip of parchment over his head.

"Renzo?" Banon squinted at his bearded comrade. "What's up? Did you tell the chancellor about our progress today?"

"I did," he said, "and he gave me this telegram to give to you. He said it was urgent."

Perplexed as to who could possibly know as to his whereabouts, he snatched the message out of Renzo's callused palm and broke its seal open. Banon glanced at the parchment for only a second before realizing who it was from.

"Who sent it?" Gayle asked. "Banon?"

He didn't immediately answer, but instead gave the enclosed oak branch an idle spin between his thumb and forefinger. All too quickly, he was beginning to understand the changes which the esper attack was having on his older sibling.

"It's from Gestahl," he told them. "He's just dissolved the monarchy of Vector."


End file.
